One Cold December Night
by EnglandBabe1997
Summary: It's one cold December night. The fire is flickering softly and Socks and Spice are curled up in her lap. And nothing will ever be the same again.


**This is an idea that popped into my head randomly – I love the books and the film is okay so I thought, hey I might as well. (I'm also re-reading them at the minute so that helped) xx Please read and review – and tell me what you think of my writing in this particular fandom xx**

Firelight flickered softly in the cold December night. Resa petted her daughter's long blonde hair softly before gently putting her down in the playpen with her toys, far away from the dancing flames. Meggie laughed and lunged for a small teddy bear, holding it lovingly to her chest and squealing with excitement. She curled up on the rug with it, sticking a pudgy thumb into her month. Two ginger cats were also curled up on the rug, guarding the playpen like sentries. Socks was named for his white paws and Spice for her volatile temper and personality. Resa had never realised how spirited cats could be before they'd adopted the pair of tabby twins. Resa smiled at the three before sitting back on the sofa, her legs crossed. A thick book lay open in her lap - one filled with magical creatures; unicorns, fairies and pixies, and distant lands filled with magic.

After another twenty minutes her husband wandered into the room, looking as though he'd stumbled in by accident, accompanied by a frustrated look.

"How was today love?" She asked comfortingly.

"Mrs Baker wants me to restore her books. Again."

Resa winced faintly in agreement. "I'm sure she won't be as bad this time."

Mo threw her a sardonic look. "You said that last time. The last two times I've been, she hovered at my shoulder the whole time and proceeded to tell me exactly who could've done better. I spend most of the time restraining myself from turning around and telling her that if they could do it better, why didn't she hire them?" She patted him gently on the arm as he sank into the sofa beside her.

"You won't be there for long sweetheart. You never are."

"Any time at all is far too long."

"At least she's not as bad as that couple in Paris. You know the ones – with the horrible manners and poor dress sense"

Mo sighed in agreement. "They may have put me off France altogether. And given me an aversion to all things orange."

Resa nodded slightly in agreement. She had never quite looked at anything orange the same way again. It was a shame. She'd quite liked an orange skirt she'd seen in a shop, but she couldn't even look at it without having horrible flashbacks.

They sat there for a while, quietly. Mo leant his head back against the sofa. The only sound was the crackling of paper as Resa turned the pages of her book. She shivered in the cold despite the fire and her thick jumper.

"I'll get Meggie ready for bed." Resa picked up her toddler daughter cooing at her softly.

"Mama?" Meggie asked sleepily.

"Hey sweetie. I'm going to get you ready for bedtime."

At the word bedtime Meggie pouted adorably. "Come on sweetheart."

It only took five minutes to change Meggie for bed. She was a remarkably calm child, and not at all fussy.

Resa carried her back downstairs, keeping an eye out for any stray toys on her way back down. Luckily, the only thing in her way was a floppy eared rabbit, easily avoided.

She put Meggie into the playpen with her toys and a picture book or two. As usual, she reached straight for the books. Neither cat had moved in the time it took to change Meggie - both were drowsy and lazy in the firelight.

Resa smiled and settled back on the sofa, fluffy sick covered feet tucked beneath her. Mo was curled up on the sofa beside her, looking near sleep. When she sat back down, he lifted up slightly to let her slide in. He slumped against her and put an arm around her.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft crackling of the fire and their daughter's ramblings.

"Do you want me to read?"

She did. But she still said, "You don't have to. I know how tired you are."

He shook his head minutely. "I know I daon't _have_ to. I want to."

She snuggled up to him.

"What story did you want?"

"How about that new one - the one from Italy, which you found in Johnson's bookshop?"

"Sure."

"What's it called again?"

"Inkheart. It seems like your kind of book - another land, with fairies and magic. Pretty medieval."

"Sounds good."

"I think you'll like it."

He reached for the book, which was lying wrapped on the coffee table. Resa swivelled so her feet were in his lap and leant her head back with her eyes closed. With a start, she looked down to realise that Socks had jumped onto her lap, Spice following behind sedately. Socks' sister lay on the floor beside the sofa, licking her paws and pretending to ignore everyone else. Resa smiled at Mo fondly.

Then her husband wove a tale of fairies and magic. Medieval castles and Motley Folk. Fire dancers and glass men who could shatter at the slightest provocation.

She loved the story.

Resa lost her sense of time, as she sat spell-bound listening to her husband's mesmerising voice. She could almost see it - the castle with its towers, the fire dancer, with his scars and soft spoken croons, the Black Prince - Capricorn, the Shadow.

If she closed her eyes she could imagine she was there. She could smell the forest; hear the howls of the wind in the trees. Only the dead weight of the cat in her lap reminded her she hadn't been sucked into the story.

The breeze was stronger now. With a loud thud she dropped to the ground, surprised that she'd fallen off of the sofa.

The ground was hard and leafy.

And when she opened her eyes the forest didn't go away.


End file.
